


What Happens in Miami...

by MelJoyAZ



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: M/M, Non-Canon Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 06:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelJoyAZ/pseuds/MelJoyAZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zane's night with the Escort while undercover in Miami</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens in Miami...

_For the first time in months, that smile stirred something in Zane. He swallowed hard, recognizing that same feeling he’d noticed in New Orleans when the singer in the bowler hat had winked at him._

_The man was making his way through the crowd, eyes on Zane, smile still soft and inviting. Zane licked his lips as he drew closer, noticing the way he moved through the crowd, appreciating the roll of his muscular shoulders. Yeah, Zane was definitely attracted to him._

_The man stopped in front of him, and Zane stared, unable to get his mind to push past the drugs and alcohol clouding his thoughts._

_“Do I know you?” Zane finally asked._

_“Would you like to?”_

_Zane nodded. The man reached out and took his hand. Touch & Geaux, Chapter 3._

**I party every night like it’s my last. Be careful, buddy, you may run into my past. I don’t got a conscience, and I don’t got time to deal with the nonsense. I came to get off to everything, so alert all the bondsmen.**

**What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. What happens in Miami…never happened.** Last Night by Pitbull

Zane clasped the escort’s hand and led him away. As he passed by the bartender he managed to snag a full bottle of whiskey and tuck it under his arm.

After a short, silent walk and elevator ride, the two men arrived at a luxuriously-appointed suite in the downtown Miami building where the party was being held. The suite had been given to Zane to use for the night, a reward for a job well done. Zane was very grateful for the privacy. His gut clenched at the thought of what was going to happen, what might happen. When he had first seen the escort walking toward him, a strong feeling of déjà vu had gripped him, his fate approaching, something that was meant to be…Zane snorted. Bullshit. He didn’t believe in any of that fucking shit anymore. What was that old saying, life sucks and then you die? If Zane had ever thought he’d live a long and happy life—hell, he would have even settled for a contented life—that foolishness was buried six feet under in a freshly-turned grave, along with…her. 

Pain clawed at Zane’s insides, making his gut cramp, threatening to bring even the meager amount he’d eaten for dinner back up, along with the god-only-knew-how-much alcohol he’d drunk. Couldn’t go there. Couldn’t think about…her. If he tried, an abyss yawned open at his feet, wind howling, clawing at him, ready to suck him down into the darkness.

Zane closed the door to the suite behind himself, turning to toss his keys onto the side table along with his pack of cigarettes, lighter and assorted pocket change. He dug in the pockets of his jacket and extracted a little baggie of white powder and placed it, along with the bottle of whiskey, on the coffee table, before tossing the jacket over the back of a chair. Zane was aware of the other man silently watching him.

“Breakfast of champions,” he said with a smirk. “Or midnight snack. Or, fuck it, both.”

Zane knew both the baggie of coke and the bottle of whiskey would be empty by the morning, and if he was lucky, maybe he’d manage an hour or two of sleep. He looked at the escort appraisingly; there was another kind of forgetfulness to be had here, too, one that he couldn’t find in the arms of any woman, not anymore. A mental and emotional breakdown was just one misstep away, and even the thought of being with another woman made that dark abyss whisper malevolently in his ear. 

The escort noticed Zane looking at him, and leaned seductively against the doorjamb, hands on his hips, his unbuttoned shirt falling open to reveal a muscled chest and belly, a pair of tight leather pants riding low on his hips. The pants were slung so low that a slice of trimmed pubic hair was revealed just above the waistband, drawing the eyes downward to where the tight pants lovingly cradled an impressive bulge. Zane swallowed hard. When he’d first seen the man, something about him had reminded him of that performer in New Orleans; maybe it was the tightly muscled sexy body, or the gracefulness of his movements, his demeanor. Zane had been drawn to him immediately on first glance, much like he’d been drawn to the man at that stupid bar in NOLA. For a couple of weeks after that New Orleans trip, Zane had often woken in the grip of a fevered dream about that man, panting, damp with sweat, body fiercely aroused. He would then reach out for soft, silken, sleepy warmth, warmth that cradled him, eased him…loved him…

Zane wrenched himself away from the minefield of memories, memories that made the wind howl…

In desperation, he turned back to the escort.

“What’s your name?” he asked abruptly, not really caring but knowing he couldn’t call the man “hey you” for the whole night.

“Me llamo Matèo,” the man replied softly. “And your name? Or should I just call you El Capitan?” His voice was teasing, seductive, and the smooth sexiness caused a shiver to run down Zane’s spine.

“Xander,” he said, taking a few steps toward Matèo, not at all sure where he was going with this. Zane stopped in front of him, his eyes roaming over the other man’s features. He was very handsome, with dark eyes and full lips, a slight five-o-clock shadow darkening his cheeks and chin. When he smiled, his teeth were white and straight, and Zane’s eyes followed the movement of his lips.

“You’re very beautiful, Xander.”

Zane shivered; that voice was dark velvet, and it caressed his “name” in a way that went straight to his cock. 

“I’m not sure what to do. I’ve never —” he whispered, feeling out of his depth.

“Touch me,” Matèo whispered back, his body language open and inviting.

Without really realizing what he was doing, Zane reached out and cupped the other man’s cheek, letting his thumb drift over that sinful lower lip. Matèo parted his lips invitingly, and Zane slowly pushed his thumb into that hot, wet mouth, sliding it over the rough velvet of Matèo’s tongue. Matèo moaned wantonly, and then closed his lips around Zane’s thumb and sucked hard. Zane’s breath exploded out of him and he was instantly, achingly hard. He slid his thumb out of Matèo’s mouth slowly, until the tip rested once again on the man’s lower lip, glistening wet with saliva. Matèo chased the thumb with his tongue, flicking the tip of it over and over. It was the hottest thing Zane had ever seen in his life.

He slid his hand across Matèo’s jaw to the back of the man’s neck, then leaned down and dragged his tongue across that glistening, enticing lower lip, tracing it, over and over, then catching it between his teeth and tugging.

“Kiss me, Xander.” Matèo’s lips feathered over Zane’s as he spoke, and Zane groaned, letting his lips slide fully over the other man’s, his tongue slipping inside that wet heat. Their tongues stroked each other as they kissed, and, wanting more, Zane’s hand slid up into Matèo’s hair and yanked his head sideways to get the angle to deepen the kiss. Zane was lost in the feeling of kissing another man for the first time, the firmness of the other man’s lips, the unfamiliar roughness of stubble scraping over his cheeks, the sound of masculine moans instead of feminine sighs…

Zane thrust Matèo away and stepped back abruptly, shoving his hands through his own hair and clutching it.

“I can’t fucking do this!” Turning his back, he stalked away toward the suite’s kitchenette/wet bar, snagging that bottle of whiskey he’d purloined earlier. Banging around until he found a clean tumbler, he splashed a generous amount in and knocked it back in one gulp. He took deep breaths as the burn spread through him, dropping down onto one of the bar stools. He couldn’t look at Matèo, but he heard the soft footfalls as the man walked toward him.

“Xander?”

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry. Maybe you’ll have time to find another…gig…tonight if you leave now.” Zane poured another drink and gulped it down.

Ignoring that, Matèo said, “If you’re nervous because it’s your first time with a man, there’s no reason to be. I liked what we were doing, and I thought you liked it, too.”

“I did like it, I just…it’s too soon. I can’t explain it any more than that, but it’s just too fucking soon. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to…” Zane was horrified to feel his eyes starting to burn. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t fucking cry. He hadn’t cried yet, and he knew if he started he might not ever be able to stop. Go ahead and cry, the abyss whispered to him…

Anguish ripped through Zane, tearing at him, as he poured yet another drink, but a warm hand on his wrist stopped him from tossing it back. Matèo was looking at him with eyes soft with compassion.

“You’ve recently lost someone, Xander? I can see how much pain you’re in.” Matèo’s thumb stroked over Zane’s wrist gently, soothingly. “And you’ve tried to lose yourself in drink, in drugs. Now you want to use sex to try and forget?”

Zane stood up, towering over the other man, his voice low and cold. “You’re being paid to fuck me, not psycho-analyze me. Don’t tell me how I should mourn my wife.” Matèo didn’t even flinch, just looked steadily back at Zane.

“Xander, what you’re feeling now, that terrible loss, the pain that feels like it’s tearing you apart, I promise you…” Matèo went stumbling back into the coffee table, falling to the floor, as Zane gripped the front of his shirt and then shoved him away hard.

“If you’re going to tell me that ‘time will heal all wounds’ or some other fucking bullshit like that, save it. I’ve heard that over and over from goddamn everybody. ‘She’s in a better place.’ ‘She’s waiting for you on the other side.’ ‘It’s God’s will.’ Fuck it, fuck them and FUCK YOU! I want her here! I don’t fucking care that she’s ‘waiting for me’ in heaven or what the fuck ever! I want my wife here with me!” Zane loomed over the man on the floor, his voice having risen to a shout, Matèo a convenient target for Zane’s pain and rage.

Reaching down, Zane gripped Matèo by the arm and yanked him to his feet, shoving him toward the door, “Get the fuck out!”

Matèo struggled against Zane’s grip, and solved the problem by just coming out of his unbuttoned shirt, leaving it dangling from Zane’s hand. He backed away quickly, breathing hard. Zane stared at the shirt, his alcohol-fueled anger dissolving, and he whispered, “I should have been there. I should never have taken that job. I should have been there for her.” Dropping the shirt to the floor, Zane turned back to the bar and tossed back his forgotten drink. 

After a long moment’s hesitation, Matèo walked up and stood next to Zane, then tentatively touched his arm.

“Please, Xander, come sit down. Please.” Weary beyond belief, Zane let himself be led to the couch and he sank down heavily on the luxurious leather. Matèo knelt at his feet and placed a hand earnestly on each of Zane’s knees.

“I’m not going to spout platitudes to you, but I do want to help you,” he said quietly. Zane sneered at him, but didn’t say anything.

“About 10 years ago, when I was still living in Colombia, I had a lover. His name was Guillermo, and we’d known each other our entire lives. We were best friends until we were around 17, when everything changed, grew into more.” Matèo’s voice grew hoarse. “I loved him, Xander. He was my everything, mi corazon, my beautiful boy. We’d been together as a couple for about four years when he was killed in a drive-by shooting, an innocent bystander on the street during a gang war.”

Zane’s face lost its sneering expression, and he closed his eyes.

“So you see, I know what it’s like to lose someone I loved with all my heart. I don’t know how your wife died, but seeing the intensity of your pain, I’d say it wasn’t expected, that it was a sudden wrenching loss like what I faced with my Guillermo, something you’d had no warning was coming, no chance to even try to come to terms with.” As he spoke, Matèo was rubbing Zane’s thighs lightly above his knees, in soothing circles, as he spoke in that deep, velvety voice.

“I just wanted to tell you, what I was trying to tell you…I know you don’t want to hear this, but please, take it from someone who has walked in your shoes, Xander, this pain will ease with time. Time does heal, if you let it. If you let the grief work its way through you, not try to dull it or suppress it with this shit,” Matèo waved his hand at the drug paraphernalia on the coffee table, “but you accept that it’s a part of you and will be for a very long time, then one day you’ll wake up and realize that there is still a life for you to live. I’ll always love my Guillermo, and he will always have a special place in my heart. I feel like I honor him by living my life, by being happy.”

Zane couldn’t take anymore, standing up so abruptly that Matèo fell back on his rear with an “oof.”

“What a sappy crock of bullshit. You’re happy? You have a life? You’re a rent boy, fucking men for money. Is that how you honor your lover? Give me a motherfucking break!” Zane snorted in disgust and turned toward his whiskey yet again.

“Fuck you!” Zane turned in surprise at the angry words, barely dodging a fist at his face that ended up glancing off his shoulder instead.

“Fuck you! What right do you have to judge me? Considering what you are doing for a living? Making sure all those little schoolchildren have the good drugs?” Matèo was poking his finger in Zane’s chest as he spoke. 

“You don’t know anything about me! My family lives on the edge of poverty, and in my village, there were no jobs anywhere to be had, except in the militia or the drug trade. After Guillermo’s death, I made my way to a bigger city, with no skills, no connections. You don’t know how I sold my body for the first time to a foreign businessman who saw me in a marketplace, and then how I realized that I could trade my looks for money and make my way here to the United States!” 

Matèo’s voice dropped to a weary whisper. “I can make more in a single night doing this type of work than most families do in two or three years in Colombia, Xander. It’s not ideal, but I can help support my family, try to give them a better life. It’s my choice, the end result is honorable to me, and you have no right to judge me. It has nothing to do with my love for Guillermo.”

Zane stood still for a moment, his fists clenched, shame washing through him. The kid was right; what right had he? His life was a vast wasteland of emptiness, grief and guilt, and there was nothing left. What right had he to judge anybody else’s choices, hold them up to a standard he had no right to hold them up to? Of course Matèo didn’t know Zane was working to try and shut down the cartel, not get product out onto the street, but there was so much else that he’d have to answer for someday, the guilt that just compounded his grief. 

Zane turned, an apology of sorts on his lips, and was shocked into silence. Matèo stood with his eyes closed, white as a sheet, face averted and with resignation written all over it. Zane jolted as he realized the other man expected to be killed for his insolence to a cartel member, at the very least beaten to a pulp and left for dead, his face ruined, body broken. Zane knew that by letting the insolence go he’d risk breaking cover, but he was just so weary, weary of thinking so much, weary of feeling so much. If he broke cover and was found out, maybe he’d be executed on the spot. Maybe it could all just be over that much sooner.

He snatched up his cigarettes and lighter, making sure to give the kid a hard shoulder bump, almost knocking the other man off his feet, as he went by. He stalked out to the French doors leading to the patio, threw them open and disappeared outside.

~~~~~

Matèo stared after Xander, shaken to the core by the events of the last few minutes. He knew that he was really lucky to be standing there unscathed after his little tirade; where that had come from he’d never know. After three years working as an escort, he’d endured insults and abuse that would have broken a lot of men. It wasn’t an easy life, but as he’d told Xander, the end result was an honorable one to him. He snorted to himself; he was alive because Xander just didn’t care enough to beat him to death at the moment, and now his sense of self-preservation was screaming at him to get the hell out while he still could. Still, something about Xander drew him in, and he knew that if he could do nothing else to help the man, at least he could give him a few hours of forgetfulness in pleasure. Matèo knew he was very good at his job.

With a thoughtful look out toward the terrace, Matèo turned toward his messenger bag and dug around inside it, then stepped outside clutching a few items. He saw Xander sitting on the bottom edge of an oversized chaise lounge, smoking. Walking up to him, making sure his footfalls were loud enough to be heard, he set his burden down on the little side table and climbed onto the chaise lounge behind where Xander was sitting. The chaise was too wide to straddle, so Matèo knelt behind Xander and placed his hands lightly on his shoulders and began a light massage. Xander immediately stiffened, so Matèo spoke soothingly, “Relax, Xander, I just want to rub your shoulders for a minute. You’re so tense. Please.”

After a second, Xander’s shoulders relaxed a little, and Matèo began a massage that was one of his specialties. He rubbed and kneaded the tense muscles, working out the kinks, and soon Xander’s head had dropped forward, little groans of appreciation coming out of his mouth. 

“Take off your shirt and lie down here, on your stomach.” Xander didn’t protest, dropping his cigarette on the floor and grinding it out with his foot, as Matèo reached around him to unbutton his shirt and then slide it down his shoulders and off. He turned and lay down on his stomach as directed, relaxing into the padded chaise with a sigh. Matèo reached for one of the little bottles he’d brought out with him and squirted some scented oil into his palm. The warm, rich scent of sandalwood reached his nose as he rubbed his palms together to warm the oil, then placed his oiled hands on Xander’s shoulders once again. After a minute or two, he straddled Xander, sitting on his buttocks so that he had the angle to really dig in and work the muscles.

He hadn’t been lying earlier when he’d said that Xander was a beautiful man. He was so tall, with mouthwatering muscles, and a face that might have been almost pretty if it wasn’t so lined with grief, lack of sleep and the chemical abuse he’d been pouring into his body. But he was still enormously attractive, and Matèo found himself becoming aroused at touching him, letting his slick hands glide across wide shoulders, sexy muscles. He didn’t always get so lucky with his clients’ looks, and it was a treat to have such a delicious body to enjoy.

Matèo’s massage turned from therapeutic to deliberately arousing, his hands gliding instead of kneading, long strokes up and down Xander’s back, from his shoulders to the waistband of his loose linen pants. He let his fingers slip teasingly under the waistband to flirt with the crack of Xander’s ass, and he was rewarded with a small moan and a bump of Xander’s hips. Sliding his hands under the other man, he unfastened Xander’s pants and drew them down and off, along with his silk briefs, removing his shoes. Matèo then stretched his body out on top of Xander’s, letting his chest slide along his back, rubbing his hardening cock against Xander’s ass. He leaned down to whisper in his ear, “You’re so beautiful, cariňo. Let me touch you, make you feel good. Don’t think or worry, just feel. Feel my hands on you, my lips, my body; I want to pleasure you with them. Let me. Will you let me?”

“Christ, yes,” Xander whispered back, his voice hoarse.

“Such a wonderful bed inside, just waiting for us. Come, cariňo.” Matèo stood and reached his hand down to pull Xander to his feet, and was surprised when Xander resisted. He sat down beside the other man and put his hand on his knee.

“What is it?”

“ I can’t…the bed…too many memories of the last time we…shit. It doesn’t make any sense, does it? I’m sorry.” 

Xander scrubbed his hands over his face, and with a flash of understanding, Matèo realized that not only was this Xander’s first sex with a man, it was his first sex since his wife had died. The sense of unfamiliarity, of something totally different than sex in a bed with his wife, was the only thing that would get Xander through this. Matèo cast his eyes around, looking for a solution. The chaise was wide and padded, but simply not big enough or stable enough. Finally his eyes lit on the outdoor furniture set, a couch and loveseat, with big removable cushions. Matèo leaped up and threw a couple of cushions to the tiled floor, and covered them with some large beach towels that were stacked next to the Jacuzzi. It wasn’t ideal, but it would serve. He looked back at Xander, and saw him sitting on the side of the chaise, his head buried in his hands. He walked over to kneel at the other man’s feet, his hands running over the outside of Xander’s legs slowly, from ankle to thigh.

~~~~~

Zane lifted his head from his hands and looked down into Matèo’s face. Matèo smiled at him, those full lips drawing his eyes helplessly to them. He ran his hands up Zane’s legs again, this time on the inside, urging his thighs open.

“Lean back on your hands,” Matèo whispered. Zane complied, leaning back to prop himself on his hands, and Matèo pushed his legs wide. His hands traveled the same route again, ankle to inner thigh, and Zane watched, fascinated by the sight of the other man’s long, slender yet masculine fingers on his skin, the feeling of a callused hand touching him. It was so different than anything he had ever felt before, and so arousing. Zane could feel his cock filling, rising, as Matèo stopped his hands’ movement and just rubbed circles with his thumbs high on Zane’s inner thighs. 

Matèo bit his lower lip, sending a burst of heat through Zane, licked it, then slowly leaned down to place his open, moist mouth on Zane’s thigh, close to where his thumb was rubbing circles, kissing slowly up his thigh to his hip, his hands following to settle lightly on Zane’s hips. Matèo leaned down to repeat the kiss on Zane’s other thigh, but instead of moving up to his hip, this time he moved inward to nuzzle Zane’s balls, letting his open mouth brush back and forth across the sensitive sac, nuzzling his nose into the base of Zane’s suddenly very erect cock. Zane moaned, pulling his knees back to widen his legs even more.

Matèo hummed in approval, his gaze holding Zane’s as he licked and sucked Zane’s balls, one by one, into his mouth, rolling them lightly with his tongue and then letting them go with a pop. Zane was gasping with the intensity of the pleasure. He wanted to feel that hot, sinful mouth on his cock, and as if reading his mind, Matèo moved and slid his tongue up the shaft, base to tip, then back down, playing with the throbbing vein on the underside on the way. 

Zane didn’t even recognize his own voice, so hoarse with arousal, as he begged, “Suck me. Suck my cock. Oh God, I need to feel your mouth on me.” Matèo didn’t hesitate, but came up on his knees and expertly took Zane’s cock down his throat. Zane cried out and arched his back, his eyes sliding closed, overwhelmed by the sensations. Matèo held him deep for a moment, then slid back up to mouth the head, his tongue playing with the little slit, circling around the ridge.

“Open your eyes, Xander. Watch me.” Zane dragged his eyelids open and looked down, his gaze locked on Matèo’s, as the other man rubbed his wet, swollen lips up and down Zane’s shaft, his tongue sliding out to lick and taste, all the way down until his nose was buried in Zane’s balls. Zane’s entire cock and balls were glistening wet with saliva. The sight of a man between his legs, his mouth on his cock, was turning Zane on like nothing ever had before. He couldn’t remember ever being so enormously aroused, his cock almost tapping his belly. Matèo retraced the same route, with lots of lips and tongue, until he reached the head again.

“Watch,” he hummed, as he slowly took Zane into his mouth, to the back of his throat. He held him there a moment, then swallowed hard, the smooth silky throat muscles tightening and massaging the head of Zane’s cock. He did it again, and again, expertly, his long fingers coming up to massage Zane’s balls.

“I’m close.” Zane gasped. “Stop if you don’t want a mouthful. Stop now.”

Matèo gripped the base of Zane’s cock hard to help stave off the orgasm, coming off with a loud pop of released suction. He stood up and held his hand out to Zane, nodding his head toward the cushions on the floor. Zane caught his hand and pulled him close to stand between Zane’s legs, and Zane buried his face in the other man’s stomach, sliding his hands around to palm his ass, feeling the hard muscular buttocks under the smooth leather.

“Take these off.” Zane reached for the zipper as he spoke, sliding it down, the going difficult around Matèo’s healthy erection. He helped Matèo strip the skin-tight pants off, then gripped his hips and brought him close again. He kissed the other man’s stomach, feeling the ridges of muscle under his lips, tasting the salt of his skin, breathing in the smell of skin and clean, male sweat. He let his lips travel all over Matèo’s torso, and felt the man’s hands in his hair, not gripping but stroking. Zane’s hands smoothed over as much of Matèo’s body as he could reach, feeling the muscles under skin, the roughness of hair, enjoying the feel of a man’s body under his hands for the first time. 

Finally he pushed Matèo back enough so that he could look at the other man’s erect cock, amazed and aroused at having it so close.

“Touch me, Xander. “ Matèo breathed. When Zane hesitated, Matèo took Zane’s hand and wrapped it around his cock. Zane marveled at the feeling of steel encased in velvet, so like his own, but yet so different, the girth and length unfamiliar.

“Touch me like you want to be touched, cariňo. “ Matèo’s head dropped back as Zane stroked him firmly, then rubbed his thumb over the head. “Yes, just like that. Oh yes, that feels so good, Xander.”

Zane stroked him a couple more times, then slid one hand down to cradle Matèo’s heavy balls, Matèo widening his stance to give Zane room to move. For long minutes he fondled Matèo, enjoying his moans of pleasure, how the man’s cock swelled in his hand, darkening and thickening, clear liquid welling up and sliding down in a slick trail. Zane wished he had the courage to take Matèo’s cock in his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to go there. Finally, he leaned down and kissed the head lightly, then licked his lips, another man’s flavor on them, wondering at the salty, slightly bitter and unexpectedly arousing taste. He loved everything about what he was doing with Matèo, the totally unfamiliar territory paradoxically safe and comforting. He was able to lose himself in this, and the abyss was silent at last. 

Matèo leaned down, his lips brushing against Zane’s as he spoke, “Come with me, amor. Trust me.” Zane let himself be pulled to his feet and led to the cushions on the floor. They sank down together, kissing, hands sliding over each other’s bodies. Zane pulled the other man on top of him, spreading his legs to make room for him, thoroughly enjoying the heavy weight of Matèo’s tightly muscled body pressed to his own, an erect cock sliding over his. Gripping Matèo’s ass, he lifted his hips into the other man’s, grinding, moaning when Matèo pushed back. They started a rhythm with their hips that they matched with their tongues as they kissed, thrusting, fucking.

Zane gasped out, “Matèo, I’m ready, but I…I don’t know how…”

“Shh, cariňo. I’ll take care of you; I’ll show you. Whatever you need.” Matèo gently lifted himself off of Zane, stood up and crossed to the little side table to retrieve the other items he had left there, returned to the cushions, lying down on his back next to where Zane had pushed himself up to kneel.

“The first thing to do is get me ready, prep me. Do you know what that means?” 

Zane shook his head, his body trembling with anticipation and arousal. “Show me.”

Matèo spread his legs wide, bending his knees and pulling them back. Picking up the little bottle of lube he’d brought with him, he coated his fingers, bringing them down between his legs to rub just underneath his balls.

“When you’re getting ready to fuck a man, you need to make sure he’s open, stretched. Otherwise, that beautiful big cock of yours could hurt him.” Matèo reached out with his slick fingers and caressed Zane. “So beautiful. I can’t wait to get that inside me.”

“How…how do you stretch…” Zane panted, thrusting his hips forward into Matèo’s hand.

“Watch me, cariňo.” Zane stared, his mouth falling open, as Matèo’s lube-covered fingers slid back down between his own legs to massage his asshole, pressing in lightly as he rubbed. He moaned, his hips lifting up into his fingers.

“Does that feel good?” Zane whispered, wondering how much of Matèo’s seeming pleasure was a put-on and how much was genuine.

“Yes…and I’m imagining it’s you touching me, sliding your fingers inside like this…” They both groaned as one of Matèo’s fingers slid inside himself, then back out, back in, thrusting lightly. Zane moved to kneel between Matèo’s legs for a better look, and Matèo lifted one of his legs and placed it on Zane’s shoulder, letting the other knee fall far to the side, opening himself wide. Zane had a close-up view of Matèo fucking himself with his own finger, sliding it in and out, then, unbelievably, adding another. It was incredibly hot, and Zane found himself unable to keep still, his hands starting to wander over Matèo’s body, rubbing up and down his chest, down to his ridged abdomen, which was coated in a light layer of perspiration.

“You are so sexy, Xander, so desirable. Such a beautiful man,” Matèo moaned. “I’m imagining you inside me, filling me full, in so deep.” His fingers picked up the pace, thrusting in to the second knuckle.

“Oh God,” Zane almost sobbed as he watched. “You’re driving me insane.” Zane filled his hands with Matèo’s cock and balls, rubbing along with the thrusts of Matèo’s fingers, lifting them out of the way so he could see better.

“When you want to drive a man out of his mind, Xander, there’s a certain spot inside him. Sometimes you have to twist your fingers a little bit to find it, but it feels firm, a little spongy at the same time…” Suddenly Matèo arched his back, his cock swelling and darkening even farther, as he obviously found what he was looking for. Zane hissed, reaching for the bottle of lube.

“You want to feel me, Xander? You want to see what I feel like on the inside? Touch me.” Matèo pulled his fingers out and away, lifting his hips invitingly. Zane coated his fingers and hesitantly slid one inside the other man, moaning at the feel of clasping, silky heat.

“Where is that spot? I want to…” Zane pressed inside until he felt what he thought was the right spot and rubbed it lightly, gratified to hear Matèo’s loud moan and see his cock jerk, pre-cum running freely out of the engorged purple head and sliding down in silky streams. He slid another finger into Matèo’s ass and thrust them deep, gasping at the tight clasp, suddenly desperate to feel that heat surrounding his cock. His body was taking over, the need to fuck suddenly overwhelming him; it had been so long since he’d felt this way.

“Condom?” Zane gasped, and Matèo slid a string of condoms over to him. Pulling his fingers out of Matèo’s ass and then flipping the man to his stomach, Zane rolled a condom on and hastily slathered himself with lube, yanking Matèo by his hips, pulling him up to his hands and knees, then lining up, pushing for entry. He rocked in place, the head of his cock pushing against Matèo’s entrance, stretched but still so tight. He could feel the other man pushing back onto him, opening himself up, and suddenly Zane felt himself sliding inside a tight, fiery heat that gripped his cock, that had him crying out in almost agonized pleasure. He’d never felt anything like this before, never knew he even wanted something like this, until now.

Zane gripped Matèo’s hips and started thrusting with a hard and fast rhythm, out of his mind with lust, incoherent moans spilling from his lips. Dimly he wondered if he was hurting the other man, something about the tense way in which Matèo held himself, muscles tight, but in the next instant that thought was gone, the race to orgasm taking over.

Zane drove inward to the hilt, over and over, his balls swinging forward into Matèo’s, sending further jolts through him. The slapping sound of their skin as they fucked filled Zane’s ears, and he reveled in the roughness of it, the raw, sheer carnality of it. There was nothing of memory here, nothing but safety.

The onslaught went on and on, masculine grunts and groans filling the air, sweat dripping off of both of them. Zane was lost in the entire experience, his defenses lowered and almost non-existent, and as he felt his orgasm approaching, a frisson of panic suddenly ran through him. The feelings and emotions he’d always associated with orgasm were welling up, and he tried to stop the tide, tried to cling to the differences between this experience and the last, but the feelings were too familiar, and they were not safe…

Matèo, not realizing what was happening, was circling his hips, driving Zane on to climax, his ass muscles rippling around Zane’s cock and milking him hard. As Zane’s orgasm was wrenched out of him, his emotional shields collapsed, reflex taking over, and he threw his head back and felt a single word welling up in his chest, and in the next instant it burst out of his throat, “Becky!” He froze in absolute horror, his body going rigid. Then sounds of almost animal pain filled the air, and Zane realized that they were coming from him. He pulled out of the other man and toppled over sideways on the cold tile, curling up into a fetal position. Matèo knelt next to him, his face full of concern.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. It’s a habit, a reflex. She…she…she was everything. It’s just a reflex. It’s her, it’s always been her. Becky. I’m sorry, I’m so…” Zane’s voice trailed away as he shivered. He could hear the wind of the abyss whistling around him, finally ready to suck him in, suck him down into the darkness, to where he’d never see the light again, feel the warmth. His worst nightmare was coming true, complete breakdown, and he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop it. His hand scrabbled on the cold tile, trying to find a handhold, trying to hold on, trying to keep from being pulled into a place he knew he would never climb back out of. 

Dimly Zane felt a warm hand grasp his, and he clamped on desperately, clinging to the contact, to the humanity of it. He tried to speak, and was horrified to hear a sob burst from his chest, then another, and another, until he was weeping uncontrollably…wrenching sobs that hurt his throat. Zane clung to that hand with every fiber of his being, the warmth, the comforting strength, until unbelievably the wind from that deadly abyss whistled a little more quietly, more quietly, finally dying away. Zane came back to himself slowly, aware that he was lying in a pool of snot and drool, his face drenched with tears, his throat shredded. The emotional overload, coupled with the physical release, left him unable to move. He still clung to Matèo’s hand as he slid into an exhausted sleep where he lay.

~~~~~

Matèo waited until he was sure Xander was asleep, then gently pulled his hand free. He winced as he saw the redness, the welts that would be bruises in a few hours. Occupational hazard; it wasn’t the first time he’d left a client while covered in bruises and it wouldn’t be the last. Stepping over to the chaise lounge, he retrieved a small pillow and a chenille throw, carefully lifting Xander’s head to place the pillow under him and then lightly cover him with the throw. He lay down behind Xander and scooted up close, spooning him, letting Xander feel the warmth from his body, hoping the human contact would continue to soothe him as he slept. He started to drift off himself, worried sick about Xander, exhausted from the events of the night.

~~~~~

Matèo started awake, aware of pressure on his shoulders pushing him down to lie on his stomach. He felt fingers tracing his cleft, sliding in, seeking. Knowing it was Xander, knowing what he wanted, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, spreading his legs, surrendering to the man’s need to erase what had just happened, to replace it with something else. The fingers were a little rough, definitely unskilled, but at least coated with lube as they pushed inside him; Matèo had done this enough times that he didn’t really need the prep, but, being good at his job, he pushed back against the fingers, showing eagerness, showing willingness. He moaned in encouragement.

Soon the blunt head of a condom-covered cock demanded entrance, and Matèo took Xander inside his body once again, rolling his hips in welcome, taking him deep. Xander set up a steady rhythm, holding on to Matèo’s hips tightly, grunting with every thrust. Matèo knew his job, and he did it well, letting wanton groans escape him to encourage the man fucking him, pushing back onto him, letting his body seduce and entreat. He was used to roughness, knew how to move to protect himself from any serious damage, but Xander was a large man and Matèo was still sore from earlier, and a particularly brutal thrust at a painful angle had him involuntarily gasping in pain. Immediately Xander froze, and surprisingly, his touch gentled, his hands leaving Matèo’s hips and sliding up his back, trying to soothe, trying to ease. He stroked Matèo’s back lightly, tracing the muscles, lowering his body to cover him, sliding his arm around Matèo’s shoulders to hold him close as his other arm propped him up. Xander resumed thrusting, but this time the movement felt different, not so detached, not so much like Matèo was just a receptacle, a tool that Xander was using to get himself off with, to forget. Matèo could conjure up a cockstand on demand, part of his “job description,” but he felt himself responding to the unexpected gentleness, his cock rising, genuine pleasure increasing.

“Come for me, guapo,” Xander whispered. “I’m close, too. Come for me.” Matèo let go, coming with a small cry, spurting down onto the cushions underneath him. He felt Xander stiffen behind him, holding himself deep as he came with a grunt. Matèo let himself slide flat on the towels, uncaring of the stickiness. Xander pulled out, stepped away to dispose of the condom, and then came back to sit beside him.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you before. My…wife always told me I was a good lover. I never meant to hurt you.” Xander whispered, his voice hoarse from his earlier storm of emotion.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Matèo said quietly. “You took what you needed, and that’s why I’m here. Don’t worry about me. Please.”

~~~~~

Zane felt weary to his soul. He realized that the pain sawing at his insides was gone, replaced by a searing numbness; he just didn’t feel anything. He wasn’t capable of feeling anything, and he was so fucking grateful. He stared at the young man next to him, trying to memorize his features, then wondered why he cared, shrugging mentally. Another night had almost passed, and another day was looming that he just had to get through, just had to exist through. Maybe if he was lucky he’d die today. Matèo was looking up at him expectantly, so Zane pulled him to his feet and pushed him toward the padded chaise lounge.

“Get some sleep.”

“What about you, cariňo? Come lie down with me. Come sleep some more.” Matèo held out his hand, and after a second Zane took it. What the hell, he’d lie down with him until the kid fell asleep, and then he’d go looking for some chemical forgetfulness; that’s what worked best. They both lay down on the chaise, and Matèo turned and snuggled into Zane’s shoulder. Zane stiffened for a moment but then relaxed, letting him burrow, his thoughts drifting, starting to doze despite himself. Far away, as if in a dream, he heard Matèo whisper as he stroked Zane’s chest, “I promise you, Xander, time will heal. It’s not just a cliché. This pain will ease, and one day it will just be an ache, an echo, leaving only the good memories. I know you don’t believe me, but I swear to you, it won’t hurt like this forever. ” The words echoed in Zane’s mind as he fell asleep.

~~~~~

When Matèo woke up, cold and stiff, he was alone on the chaise. Getting to his feet and stretching, he padded into the suite, looking for Xander. He wasn’t there, and his belongings appeared to be gone, but a large wad of cash intended to be Matèo’s tip lay on the coffee table. Next to the cash on the coffee table were the remnants of some lines of cocaine, a razor blade glinting up from next to the white powder. An empty bottle of whiskey lay on its side next to the drug paraphernalia. Xander had obviously had his “breakfast” already, and Matèo wondered if he had even slept at all. He sighed with resignation, then started to gather his things in preparation to depart. 

As Matèo exited the downtown high-rise, he glimpsed a familiar figure, easily the tallest man in the group, as several men were stepping into a black SUV. Xander had obviously showered and changed his clothes, and he looked hard and dangerous as he helped El Jefe into the back of the SUV and climbed in after him, headed off on some cartel business. Xander was a dangerous man, he knew, but Matèo had glimpsed a core of decency in him, hidden deep and maybe beyond reach now, torched in the fire of his pain and grief. Maybe it was now beyond reach, but Matèo knew it had been there, once. He shook his head in sorrow, turned his back and walked away.


End file.
